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“Don’t.” David knows Patrick’s in the doorway, but chocolate is dripping towards his elbow and this strawberry is sliding off its toothpick. The kitchen’s a mess, and he suspects the results will taste as ugly as they look.
“These for Stevie?”
David lets his eyes flick upwards. Unsupervised, the strawberry takes the opportunity to plop into melted chocolate. “Ahhhhhh!” Maybe he can get it with a fork, but now the stem is covered. “Don’t say anything. It was a bad idea.”
Patrick bends to examine the fruit David has managed to dip and set on a plate. The chocolate is pooling unattractively.
“Don’t poke.”
“I’m not.” Patrick retracts his hand.
“They won’t be done in time. The instructions said it only takes an hour!”
“Did they say how to make them smoother? Maybe shake off the extra before—” Patrick stops, watching the strawberry slide off David’s fork and careen into the others.
“They’re both slippery and sticky. The chocolate’s clumping! The strawberries don’t even smell good.” For emphasis, he swipes at the pile of discarded toothpicks. One stabs his hand. “Ow!”
“They’re out of season.”
“Don’t. It’s too late.”
“Need help?”
David shakes his head. Maybe if he uses his fingers? He picks up a berry by the leaf, but it seems too breakable. Maybe he could pour the chocolate?
The kitchen’s still in disarray, but David’s showered when Stevie arrives.
“Happy Palentine’s Day!”
David refuses to acknowledge that. “I was going to rent the chocolate fountain,” he starts, as he closes the door. “But Roland has it—something about macaroons? Oh, what’s that?”
Stevie is holding ice cream. “I wanted chocolate strawberry swirl, but Brebner’s only had vanilla.”
David looks at Patrick, shrugging in the kitchen doorway. Stevie shakes the carton. “Do you have anything to go with it?”